Simply showing up in court on my behalf, without even speaking, let alone testifying in any way, might convince the Honorable Daniel Stahnke that I do not present a risk of Jumping Bail.

That would enable my desperately-anxious Mother, Patricia A. Crawford, to obtain a refund of the $50,000.00 Cash Bail she posted on my behalf, after I was arrested for living by the words of The Reverend Doctor Marting Luther King Junior, by complying with my "moral responsbility to disobey unjust laws", thereby staging a sit-in between the two halves of the folding front door the C-Tran #105 Salmon Creek Express at the Salmon Creek Park-and-Ride just North of Vancouver, for which I was arrested for Misdemeanor Disorderly Conduct on Friday, January 13.

I myself dialed 9-1-1 that the Emergency Dispatcher send a Deputy who might supply the belligerent and slothful bus driver and I some manner of amicable solution to our dispute over my assertion that he Suffered the Deadly Sin of Sloth for having the bright idea that it was better to drive a late bus completely devoid of passengers so as to make up for his extreme tardiness, than to transport two freezing cold public transport patrons who'd been waiting for the #105 for more than an hour.

For my contribution to today's social discourse, and despite my cry of "Don't Tase Me, Bro!", Clark County Sheriff's Deputy Prather - who I really do think the world of - jolted me once with his Taser, then, upon finding I was a Trained Professional Driving on a Closed Course - that is, that I am a Physicist and my father was a Electrical Engineer, and so do not regard even 800,000 Volt Alternating Current electrical shocks to not be that big a deal provided that shock's current is quite low, Tased me yet again, only to find me still refusing to get off that Damn bus unless he and Deputy Kerr grant my reasonable and polite request to place me under arrest.

I apologize, I would have posted early this morning had I not been hauled to a Nuthouse in an Ambulance because I'm the kind of Right-Thinking Citizen that rings up Emergency 9-1-1 when he has reason to believe that a profoundly psychotic person is well on their way to committing Vehicular Suicide or even Manslaughter.

I am Furious Yet I am Not Violent,
But this Shit Just Has to Stop.
Prather was Flummoxed That I
Laughed at His Taser,
"Try the Pepper Spray Next,"
"I Am Certain That I'd Find It Fun."

I'd be No Good as Commander-in-Chief,
'Cause I Could Never Send Kids to their Deaths.
But Based on My Legal Books'
Transparent Simplicity,
I'd Make one Hell of A
Hell-Raising Senator,
Or Perhaps a Good Activist Judge.

(Some of the links in this essay are broken, as they point to websites that went down when I was in the hospital. The links are correct, I just need to rehost the old content on my new server. I'll do just that late tonight.)

I simply must have the onerously restrictive conditions of my bail modified or I'm going to be out on the street soon, as the Custody Division Deputies damn near destroyed the Apple MacBook Pro notebook computer that is the only means I have of providing for myself.

Just Because You're Paranoid, It Doesn't Mean They're Not Out To Get You!

The young woman upon whose behalf I pulled this stunt would have been left stranded in Vancouver, unable to get home to her rural Clark County home in Longview had I not blocked the bus with my own body at the 99th Street Transit Center where that driver just drove right by both of us, without so much as opening the bus doors or looking my was to see that I was hurriedly packing my computer into its case so I could board the bus.

There's not much parking anywhere near the Courthouse, so I recommend public transit. There's lots of parking the Salmon Creek Park-and-Ride where I-5 and I-205 merge just North of Vancouver; take the 134 Ave, then go a short distance West, turning right into the
Park-n-Ride at the corner by the oil change shop.

From Vancouver, take the C-Tran #4, #44, #37 or #105 to Evergreen and Main in Downtown Vancouver, a block west from the Main Library.

From Downtown Portland, take the TriMet MAX Yellow Line to the Delta Park/Vanport Station, or from the Expo Center, just one block towards Downtown Portland. Then the #4 Van Mall bus to Evergreen and Main in Vancouver.

From Evergreen and Main, walk a few blocks west - away from the Library - on Evergreen until you get to Franklin, turn right then a block and a half North. Enter the Courthouse through the front door
behind the Law Enforcement Officer memorial.

If you simply must drive, I expect you can find parking West of the Courthouse, not towards downtown to the East.

Please allow plenty of time to arrive, find parking or walk from the bus stop, get through security, then find my hearing's Courtroom.

When you arrive, check the daily Court roster in the Court Lobby for the actual hearing room. It might not take place in Department One.

Leave the Second Amendment at Home friends, as you'll have to pass through a metal detector to obtain entrance to the Court.

My colleagues at Kuro5hin have been going the extra mile to help me work out my Pro Se - that is, I represent myself with the aid of a "Legal Advisor" and not an Defense Counsel - my Pro Se defense theory that the reason I am charged with making death threats, is that I am being subjected to harassment by the law enforcement community as a result of my diligient efforts to Solve what I call The Software Problem:

Software failure is fundamentally a human problem, not a technical one.

I began to work towards the Solution of what I now call The Software Problem at at the age of three when I puzzled over the strange phenoment that despite that it was readily apparent that toddlers such as myself were as creative, insightful, intelligent and expressive as any grown-ups, every last one of us was completely unable to get any grown-ups at all to ever take us seriously.

My first substantive solution came at the age of four. I'm forty-eight now, so that was in 1968, but I remember this conversation with my little friend Jeffrey Coates as if it took place this very day:

When I grow up someday, whenever any little kid every speaks to me, I'm going to listen very carefully, and I'm going to pay attention to what they are trying to tell me.

What I described to my little friend when I was but four in 1968 is part of the "Active Listening" that is taught to every Suicide Hotline Counselor such as myself - I served on the Suicide Prevention Service of Santa Cruz County back in the day - Crisis Counselors, Psychotherapists, Social Workers, Law Enforcement Officers in the State of California, but I flummoxed to find not law enforcement officers in Clark County, Washington nor Portland, Oregon.

Reflect for but a moment before you read on.

When a little child is being beaten...

When a list child is being molested...

When a little child has been kidnapped by a disgruntled ex-spouse, yet is allowed to roam freely about the neighborhood to which they have been unlawfully relocated...

When their father is an alcoholic, or mother on crack...

When a little child is frightened, not of monsters under the bed, but for their very lives...

It is quite unlikely that they possess the insight to even know they need help, let alone the eloquence required to ask an adult for it.

Feminist Gloria Steinem asserts that if we would stop beating our children, there would be no wars anymore.

Advogato Master MichaelCrawford asserts this if we would but listen to our children, no one would ever get away with beating them anymore.

That is why United States Law requires certain people know as "Mandated Responders" to report to Child Protective Services or to the legal authorities when they have reason to believe that a child, or mentally incompetent elderly person is so much at risk of being molested, beaten or subject to psychological abuse.

I'm no mandated reporter, but being mentally ill and so traveling in the right circles, a whole bunch of my very closest friends, loved ones and relatives are out of their fucking trees with the very worst kinds of batshit insanity.

For the most part these days I roam around downtown Portland, Oregon in the late afternoon until the last MAX train runs, rounding up those of the homeless people who are completely unaware, or too crazy to remember for long that such shelters as the Portland Rescue Mission on Burnside near the bridge over the Willamette River, the Salvation Army Female Emergency Shelter on Fifth just off of Burnside, leading them to shelter - by the hand if I have to - as well as buying them a hot meal at such restaurants as Dante's Caffe Italian Pizza-by-the-Slice window at the North-East Corner of Third Avenue and Burnside

I am regarded by Mental Health Professionals as what is known as a "consumer", but I regard that term as euphemistically demeaning. I don't eat mental health, I experience mental illness, comply with various treatments as "Talk Therapy", Antipsychotic and Anticonvulsive Medication, then puzzle over what that Talk Therapy does to me, what Talk Therapy does to my therapist to have given it to me, what I myself do to my therapist for having been her client - Psychotherapy is an intimate, years-long, often decades-long process, so there is no hope but for my therapists but to be somehow changed by having treated me - then write it up at my various websites:

Crawfordian Psychoanalysis is in no way different than accepted methods of treating the mentally ill. I only couch my methods in language which is accessible to nonspecialists so that one can learn to practice Talk Therapy without having to attend graduate school, undergo "Training Analysis" or obtain a license to practice Psychotherapy.

Most of my work regarding The Software Problem since March 2010 when I registered the original domain as I was drafting my Letter of Resignation not from Sony Ericsson Mobile Communications' Redwoord Shores, California Design Center, but from Manpower Professional, whose Accounts Payable people could not be bothered to ever learn to sing enough of The Alphabet Song to ever cut me a paycheck within the Net-30 terms of my previous sole proprietorship.

TESTIFY!

If you'd like to write any letters upon my behalf to Judge Stahnke - he's a real swell guy I must say, and a worthy Chess Partner - address them to:

To obtain DVD-ROMs with the official transcript videos any of my hearings, you'll need to know my Cause Numbers - there have been two so far, of which I only have one written down, the other being from last January when I was charged with Assault for preventing my own beloved Mother from committing suicide by gently carrying her to a bed then holding her there while I rang up 9-1-1 that I Deputy might give her a welfare check that never happened - the names of the Judges who presided at the hearings, and the names of the Courtrooms in which those hearings took place:

Save yourself money by requesting all of my videos on a single DVD, as the fee is $25.00 per DVD, not per hearing. I don't know yet whether you can have a single DVD prepared from hearings before multiple judges, as the DVDs are prepared by each individual Judge's office staff.

I don't know whether they can take Credit or Debit Cards, or whether they will take personal checks. I'll ask the Deparment One assistant Kim tomorrow when I drop by to order my own DVD(s) of the hearings I've had so far.

I'll post a comment this afternoon with the first name of Her Honor's assistant.

To say anything to my actual Chess Partner, say to send him a book of
Openings, Midgames or Endgames, or perhaps Probability Theory texts that might enable Dan to solve Brain Teaser Number One, write to:

To visit Dan in person, you need to make an appointment, as he is often in Court, In Camera with a Judge and Defense Counsel, or in a meeting with his colleagues.

But better than meeting with or calling Dan is to meet, call or email Inspector Hammond in the Prosecuting Attorney's Office. That way if you supply evidence that Dan could use to incriminate me, I won't be in a position to cross-examine my own opposition counsel. I picked that tip up from F. Lee Bailey of all people, when he was going on and on about ill-fitting gloves back in the day.

My Mental Competency Evaluations

My most interesting Competency Evaluation was made by a Psychologist towards the end of my stay in Western's F-1 Forensic Unit Ward late last February or so, but it is not a matter of public record.

There are no electronic copies of that evaluation, and only four physical copies exist; I can get mine from my previous Public Defender, but to actually obtain it I may need Judge Stahnke to issue a written order that he give it to me, as for some reason that is completely beyond my comprehension, State Mental Hospital patients are not normally permitted to read their own Court-Ordered Mental Competency Evaluations

That promised Mental Competency Evaluation that I'd spent two mind-numbingly boring weeks cooling my heels in the slammer for did actually take place but two hours after His Honor told Dan Gasperino to brush up on his openings. I don't know whether the County Designated
Mental Health Professional's Mental Competency Evaluations are public record, but if they are, no doubt you can Google up the procedure for obtaining mine. There have been a whole bunch of them, as I March to the Beat of a Different Drummer.

If you can't get my DMHP evals, I expect that the evaluated patients can obtain them upon request.

I have hardcopies of several others, from when I've been involuntaried at Telecare, on Fourth Plain in the back of the same building of Community Services Northwest I'll dig them up out of my storage locker on the way home from my hearing on Thursday;
you're going to totally piss yourself laughing when I submit each individual one to Kuro5hin's Edit and Voting Queues, as well as link them from The CrawDoc Archives.

For the life of me, I don't know how or where they come up with such works of fiction.

Each of the hearings before a Clark County Court Commissioner at Telecare were tape recorded; I lost every last one of those hearings, more or less because I Copped a 'Tude before the very same lady who presided over each of them.

Shortly after my discharge last July, as a result of my finally agreed to commit a felony by signing a Washington State Department of Social and Health Services GA-X Disability Cash Assistance Application, despite not being in any way disabled, just batshit insane, I celebrated the return to me of my iPhone 4:

Michael Crawford: I just spent six months at Western State Hospital in Lakewood, Washington.

Jason Pawloski: What happened?

Michael Crawford: I mouthed off to a Judge.

But I won my hearing a couple months before that at Seattle's Swedish Hospital, despite my own Mother testifying against me and having arrived at the hospital with a Valproic Acid - used to prevent as well as to stop Bipolar Mania - blood level of Nada, Zilch and Zip, simply by pointing out that I generally take my meds at bedtime, and that I tend to go for days on end without sleeping as a result of my Free Running Non-24-Hour Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome as well as my intense laser-like focus on my work that is a result of my Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder.

If I'm not in the jail, request Facebook Friendship of my older sister Jean Evans - she's one of my own Facebook friends - then ask her to call Mom to find out the name of whatever Nuthouse I might be in, as well as that Nuthouse's street and postal addresses, patient phone numbers, as well as the nurse's desk number of whatever ward I've found myself in.

At Western I'm most likely to wind up in ward F-1 in the Forensic Unit if I've been ordered by a Judge to submit to a Mental Competency Evaluation, or in Ward C-3 if I'm only admitted because I have the temerity to mouth off, not to strictly speaking to a Judge, but to a Court Commissioner during one of the Involunatry Psychiatric Hold hearings I've been attending on a regular basis ever since I wound up at Milbrae Memorial Hospital back in June 2010 after demonstrating to the receptionist and six (fortunately unarmed!) Stanford Police Officers at the Stanford Medical Center that I possess the insight to enter a state of profoundly mind-altered psychosis just by thinking about doing so, simply by adopting a certain state of mind for no other reason than to convince a licensed Mental Health Professional to pop open my MacBook Pro's lid to have a look at not my own but, uh, some other person's paranoid manifestoes spewed all over my Facebook Wall.

"I'm very sorry," said a nurse by the name of Arnel, perhaps an hour and a half after I was four-cornered on a bed there in my own private room there in Emergency.

"You and the companion of your choice get dinner at Berkeley's Chez Panisse on me, for being the very first of the Stanford Emergency Room Staff to actually pop open my MacBook Pro's laptop screen."

Arnel never did admit to having actually at my screen, but I could tell by their demeanor that, one by one, most of the Emergency staff did do so.

I flatly refused to go to sleep until some Emergency staff member

Stanford Police Officer Chuck Martinez and his companion gets Chez Panisse as well; he's the only one of Stanford's finest who Knows not only His Openings, but his Endgames as well. My only regret is that, as an Emergency Room Security Guard, he and I had no opportunity to play any manner of Midgame.

"Check," said Chuck with a mischevious grin as I arrived on an all-expense-paid Taxi ride from Milbrae down the San Francisco's scenic Interstate 280 back to Stanford in Palo Alto, where I came to fetch my Chevy Prizm from the Parking Lot.

Look Man: I know from public transit, but the nice Social Worker in the Milbrae General Hospital didn't want me to have to take Caltrain. I had the most fascinating conversation about mental illness with my driver.

"No more Chess for me!" I cheerfully shouted. "I Withdraw!"

Whether I'm in the Slammer or the Nuthouse, please give me a one-month gift subscriptions to any Washington, Oregon or Idaho newspaper. Extras won't go to waste as I'll share them with my colleagues.

My Clark County - quite likely all of Washington State - CFN is fixed at 205307 for the rest of my days now that I am, as they say, "In the System":

"My CFN is six digits," I said to my colleague to the right, "But yours is only five. Are you sure you gave it to me right?"

"I been here since the Sixties," My Colleague to the Right cheerfully replied.

My Colleague to the Right is no criminal:

The AK-47 round he received In Service to His Country at the age of butseventeen exited just above his left ear and so he himself sees The Thought Police everywhere he goes.

He constantly is subjected not only to "Administrative Segration" as I was for now reason I can figure out, but enduring such punishment for weeks or even months on end as not being permitted to place telephone calls, obtain more than three postage-prepaid envelopes, a single golf pencil or four measly sheets of writing paper per week, or make modest purchases of candy, snacks, soap, toothpaste, toothbrushes, thermal underwear, deck shoes, socks or clean boxer from the Jail Commissary as a result of hurling his lunch trays at the Jail Deputies, who otherwise consider him the Best Thing Since Sliced Bread.

Western State Hospital has a lifetime, quite unrestricted residential program for people who simply are unable to live on their own. He would be free to roam around Lakewood, say to hang out at Starbucks, the nearby Public Library, or order a scrumptious dine-in pizza from a joint right next to The Nuthouse, at an expense to the Washington State Taxpayer of perhaps one-tenth of what it is paying today to keep him in that cold, cruel, lonely Jail.

The main rag in Vancouver is The Columbian, in Portland it's the Oregonian as well as the Portland Tribue. The best State Government news is to be found in the Tacoma or Olympia papers. The biggest newspaper is that of Seattle. My favorite newspaper of The Spokesman-Review of Spokane as I was born there in 1964; Mom and her identical twin sister, my Aunt Peggy. I myself delivered Moscow's Daily Idahonian but it's tragically no longer with us, but Moscow, Idaho and Pullman, Washington are both served by the Pullman paper.

Absoluetly any kind of book is most welcome, even better being those that are useful for Criminal Defense, First, Fourth and Sixth Constitutional Amendment Federal Civil Rights Lawsuits, Legal Dictionaries, and the Rules of Evidence for Washington State and the United States Federal Courts.

If you do, it's best to include all the Concurring, Concurring in Part and Dissenting Opinions. Extra credit for transcripts of the Oral Arguments, which just about always are limited to but one hour for each side

Also I can use Washington State Supreme Court Opinions, as well as Ninth Circuit Federal Court of Appeals opinions, as the Ninth Circuit in San Francisco holds sway in Washington State.

If you mail me anything at all, check the Jail's Inmate Mail Rules on the Sheriff's website, or your letter is likely to be returned, as sye's was. I don't have a clue why her letter was returned; I was only told that it contained a "Foreign or Unrecognizable Object".

If you send me any letters, write or print them on just one side of each page, so I can use the other sides for writing paper. Writing paper is hard to come by in the slammer, with me working out the specification for a new software product only carefully torn-open, unfolded and smoothed bags of thin, smooth paper used to serve us our breakfast cereal, with my colleague to my left writing most of his briefs for his Civil Rights Lawsuit at the Federal Court in Seattle being mostly written on paper towels with a pencil that he must sharpen with his teeth.

It's not that jail inmates can't be trusted with pencil sharpeners,
as the F4 pod has a wall-mounted sharpener. It's just that the jail staff can't be bothered to install one in every pod.

Kuro5hin membership is free to all comers, but to actually post any comments, diaries or stories, you have to pay a five US dollar "Troll Suppression Fee" that was instituted to keep my dear friend and fellow practitioner of Social Discourse from completely overrunning the place with his own rather individual brand of humour.

K5's Content Management System is Scoop, which was written by site founder Rusty Foster in Perl back during the Dot-Com boom. The site was at one time one of the Web's most-popular and most-productive, with insightful, well researched and well-written essays and articles appearing on the front page every single day.

But because writers prefer to spend the time they're not writing their stories using their rapier wit to insult each other in public, the vast majority of Kuro5hin's 50,000 or so members were eventually driven away. Thus there are but a very few of us cantankerous old-timers who remain.

Several days ago I emailed Neil a lengthy list of the Motions I intended to file with the Court Clerk well ahead of today's Omnibus hearing. My intention was to be Quite The Gentlemen and so to hand-deliver all those same Motion's to Dan Gasperino, an Assistant Prosecuting Attorney - NOT Assistant District Attorney, Washington is weird that way - to give Dan the opportunity to argue against every last one of those motions.

I wear my heart on my sleeve, ladies and germs. Having one's heart on one's sleeve enables one to conceal all the cards that one has concealed up in them. Don't think that I'm stupid for making my defensive strategy plainly apparent to All of G-d's Creation. I have a secret plan:

It is to argue my case, myself as an admitted member of the Supreme Court Bar - I understand it has its own special "Li'l Bar" of mostly Constitutional, Business and Tax Attorneys - before the United States Supreme Court.

One does not actually have to be admitted to any bar of any sort, to have ever passed any exam of any sort, or to be admitted to any organization of any sort, professional or otherwise to act Pro Se. One only need obtain the consent of any judge somewhere along the line of any judge who presides over any of one's hearings to so act.

Judge Stahnke granted my Pro Se request at my very first hearing, yet all concerned have totally spaced that fact. That, for me, has been a HUGE pain in the ass because I had all manner of business before the court in preparation for today's hearing which I could not take care of myself, and I could not convince Neil to handle on my own because as - and I do recognize this - he is a dedicated and diligent Public Defender, but because he earns only eight hundred measly dollars per defendant, no matter how much work and time their defense requires, he just does not have the headspace to deal with my petty concerns.

I did not before a couple hours ago regard that as a problem, given that I have Judge Stahnke's grant of Pro Se.

What I regard as a problem is Neil Cane's assertion that I am not permitted to act Pro Se because I am, without a doubt, mentally ill

I don't have a problem calling me all manner of bad names, hurling insults at me, subjecting me to various degradations such as four-cornering me then injecting me into unconsciousness because I am so uppity as to shout "CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE!!! CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE!!!" for hours on end when I am admitted involuntarily to inpatient units because I tried to get my psychotic mother the relief she so desperately needs.

What I do have a problem with though, are the most fundamental legal, civil, constitutional, human and moral rights of the mentally ill as well as not only unconvicted defendants, but those who actually have been convicted, being denied them.

I already have the telephone number of My Colleague To The Left's Federal Civil Rights Attorney. I don't have her name at my fingertips but I'll post it in a followup in a little bit.

While this lady is doing a good job as his Plaintiff's Advocate, My Colleague to the Left has to handle the footwork by availing himself of the Federally-Required Meaningful Access To The Courts in the form of the Clark County Jail's apparently well-stacked Law Library.

I myself had a written order from a Judge to be granted Meaninful Access To The Courts by spending a - and I quote the Judge - "Reasonable" - amount of time in the library. I really did need to be there, as there were all kinds of ways that I could have had Neil quash Judge Stahnke's order that I be held for a Mental Competency Evaluation.

I also obtained Clark County Sheriff's Custody Division Sergeant Huff's written approval to read in the library.

Why then, in twenty-eight days of damn near every day filing at first written requests, then after obtaining both the Judge's written order that I be granted access to the library, as well as Sergeant's Huff's approval, verbal requests to be placed on the "Waiting List", was I never granted my Federally Required Meaningful Access to the Courts in the form of Quality Time in the jail's Law Library?

Not Even once, folks.

I was only able to contact Neil Cane via phone just once because he's too busted to afford a receptionist and too clueless to hire an inexpensive answering service. Because he had no business cards and neglected to write down his postal address when he did write down his telephone number, and because my batshit crazy Mother flatly refused my desperate entreaties to ask Neil for his postal address that she could provide it to me over the jail phone during my daily "Hour Out" - yes that's right, I was only permitted out of my cell but one hour per day, and was not once permitted to share my hour out with any other inmates....

In the coming days I'll be writing up my various grounds for Washington State as well as Federal Appeal, grounds for Civil Rights Actions, Class Action or Individual, as well as some letters to some State and Federal legislators to the effect that Western State Hospital is turning away patients while at the time forbidding patients who have no reason to be there, and who Western's own medical, psychiatric and social worker staff readily agree have no reason to be there, yet do not permit to leave because Western has a policy of not discharging anyone into homelessness.

I had a colleague there in Ward C-3 who helped the staff of Pierce College look after the Windows PCs that were provided to us Wingnuts that we could pursue our GEDs, or high school equivalency exams. For no reason I can figure out, those PCs were not connected to the net and were primarily used by the patients so they could listen to music CDs while they lulled away the hour of alleged education by napping with their heads laid in the arms on the desks.

This guy was a TEACHER for fuck's sake. At least at one time, he had a good-paying job for which he was well paid. Let's just say that he wasn't one of those underpaid teachers. He was also the only one there at all of Western that I could talk to about coding and the like.

When the p-doc, the psychologist and the social worker all gave him a clean bill of health, financial assistance was applied for, as he has no people in Washington, and no where to go, and no longer has any possessions of any sort other than what he had on him when he was admitted to Western.

It was made transparently clear to the United States Social Security Adminstration as well as the Washington State Department of Social and Health Services that he was able-bodied, of sound mind, possessed vast numbers of salable job skills, quite likely had a University Degree, and just loved to fix all the little Win32 problems that you and I know so well.

Thus he was denied any form of financial assistance.

Because Western has a policy of not discharging any patience into homelessness, he was offered the opportunity to reside there in Ward C-3, at a cost to the Washington State Taxpayer of $530.00 PER DAY, for the rest of his life.

It has been eight months since he and I parted, but this guy really was quite the slacker. I myself vigorously protested this "NO HOMELESSNESS" policy as I have all manner of Wilderness Survival Skills as a result of having been a Boy Scout for Christ's Sake.

The Western could have had me dropped off at any random location with not a penny to my name, no identification, nothing whatsoever, no people no anything no computer and I would have done just fine.

That Shit Just Has To Stop.

That's why I act Pro Se, because the very first thing I asked Neil to do when he and I were able to speak alone after the hearing where he and I first met, was to ask him to write down the URL for:

Given that I threatened to use my bare hands to beat to death VPD Corporal Greg Zimmerman because he failed to do his solemn duty to pass on my report of a drug hit which I myself witnessed back in the day when I used to hang with the wrong kind of people, don't you think Neil would want to know that the way he would defend me, would be to point out to the jury that by threatening the life of VPD Corporal Greg Zimmerman, I was doing my solemn duty not as an Enginer, but...

... Doing My Solemn Duty As A Compassionate Human Being? ...

I gotta lot on my plate that I gotta deal with before my hearing at nine, so I'm going to have to check out until just before I set out for Downtown Vancouver. I'll reply to your comments late this afternoon or early evening.

as a compassionate human being as you may be, your compassion seems to work better when another human being's compassion is discounted in comparison to yours. I very much object that kind of delusion.

I have got in touch with Jennifer Bell, supervisor of prison records unit. I do not have a moment of doubt that without stirring up all the drama, your case will be judged according to law.

Have you finished reading 'Pale Fire' which I sent you? I guess not. You are so much on a crusade to seek justice. Well, good luck with that. Don't count me as your supporter. I only wish to be a witness.

you know whom I can't forgive? That brother and mother of Camille Claudel. They were wretched folks fighting their own daemon by locking up genius sister, daughter and 'starved' her to death for 30 years.

My Mother just absolutely adores receiving handwritten letters, but hardly anyone ever writes to her anymore now that they have email. So I wrote several letters to her while I was in the slammer that were each several pages long.

Despite that I could never get her to write me any letters of any sort. She kept saying "But we speak on the phone every day", but I could never get her to understand that what I really wanted was for her to really put some time and thought into a letter to me as I had put so much time and thought into my letters to her.

Similarly, I spend two solid weeks struggling desperately to convince her to ring up the sales people at Powells City of Books so they could help her select two books for me, one being the lyrics and written melodies of some famous American Folk Songs, the other being a book on basic chess strategy and tactics.

When I finally convinced her that I was going out of me tree in that cold, damn slammer not because it was so cold and damp, and not because they never gave me enough food that I felt I had enough to eat, she finally did call Powells, but when she was told that the books would not ship until ten days later, she did even ask them if she could pay extra to expedite her order.

Imaging my dismay when I receive a small yellow slip that notified me that Sye's letter to me had been returned because it contained some manner of "foreign or unrecognizable object".

Every few days I desperately struggled to convince my sister and brother and law to post to Kuro5hin and Advogato that I needed the community to work together to raise my bail. I even wrote out the markup for a K5 story with a pencil that I had to sharpen with my teeth, the full markup for a story that requested the community work together to do so.

My brother in law worked miracles as far as keeping my servers up and my domains renewed, but once I had a few domains renewed, what I really needed was for the communities I named in the intro to this story to work together, pass around the hat to raise my bail.

My sister but posted a single paragraph to my Facebook wall to ask my friends who lived in Vancouver to turn up at my hearings, to demonstrate to Judge Stahnke that I had ties to the community. She did that but once.

My mother flatly refused to so much as write down the fifty or so email addresses I wanted her to write to so that not she but my community - the one I really did have ties to - could work together to raise my bail.

The very best I was able to do was to finally convince my attorney to notify a few Internet friends that I was incarcerated, but he was only willing to write to a few, and did not even tell them that I did not want any one individual friend to raise my bail, but for all of my many of thousands of friends, loved ones and colleagues to get my desperaate entreaties posted her at Advogato and Kuro5hin, then after that, to get both stories Slashdotted.

I was damn near out of my tree when I was completely overcome and leapt with rapturous joy when the deputy delivered the copy of Vladimir Nabokov's Pale Fire that you ordered for me badvogato, but was quite stymied when I tried to figure out who had sent it.

If you included any manner of gift card of message, the deputies removed it when they searched amazon's shipping parcel.

Carl Rogers : "A person cannot teach another person directly; a person can only facilitate another's learning” (Rogers, 1951). This is a result of his personality theory, which states that everyone exists in a constantly changing world of experience in which he or she is the center."

people tend to copy/repeat their role model's rhetorical stands. I consider it part of human nature embodied in many authoritarian tradition. How can I discern when/where being on the receiving end of another officer's repeating his commander's established rule is bad even for him the 'good' habitual messenger ?

The title of the work comes from John Milton's description of Hell in Paradise Lost:

No light; but rather darkness visible
Served only to discover sights of woe,
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
That comes to all, but torture without end
Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed
With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.

Michael, to be honest this article is very confused. You are probably overestimating the dangers in your current disadventure! Some rest will help!

Still, if i would live close to you (unfortunately i am in Switzerland), i'd show up in court. This because your Geometric Visions article was enlightning for me! I only had acoustic allucinations once, when i was living in a place close to a noisy rail station where i could not sleep. i never had problems with depressions or so, also because i can't focus on details, i do not care about details (which can be also a problem in life :-)

To tell the difference between voices and real life, i used Occam's rasor principle: if my reasoning started getting too complex, and one easier explanation (which might be hurting to myself) is easier, then i decided to believe the easier explanation and to fix my behaviour in positive ways. I found out that most of the time, complex reasoning was just an excuse to hide my misbehaviour. Occam's principle worked very well through my whole life.

My advice for you is to stay with Kant and with what you wrote in your keen essay, which is less about disease and much more about philosophy and way of working of everyone, including so called "normal" people.

Kant once said something like "we live in mug, but we can always look up at the stars".

Below is an excellent resource written with an open hand by Dr. Clay Tucker-Ladd:

Psychological Self-Help -- http://www.psychologicalselfhelp.org/

The book above covers all manner of matters psychological. It is reasonably sound without being pedantic and is written by a clinician with decades of experience and a genuine interest in the well-being of others.

The entire book is available online for free.

Having some identifiable difficulties personally does not invalidate your experience, your actions or your attribution. You have a right and arguably a duty to participate in the public discourse.

I am not saying that you should not fight your fight in your own way. To some extent, though they take the bullet, people like you, who are 'out there', force the rest of us to pay attention. Your opponents may feel you are absolutely in the wrong and you are motivated entirely by madness. However, you will still be forcing them to at least nominally justify their actions and the thinking that informs them.

There is some value in at least some people pushing back much harder than expected.

I am not saying you are there, but *if* you are overwhelmed by your situation, if it is taking too much of a toll, give yourself permission to quit.

The type of work we do is extreme in many ways and it takes some extreme personalities to do it. Just about all of the very best programmers I have met are incredibly tenacious and sometimes damn near autistic in their ability to attend to some things and attenuate others. The cliche of the hacker working through the night and surviving on stimulants and junk food is based on truth.

Extreme measures are often needed to get the 'magic' that produces software. Some (like me) need to get into 'the zone' and it can take a long time to get into it. It is especially seductive when stuff is being created. It is hard to leave 'the zone' and let the magic die, but there comes a point where time spent there, be it hacking code or hacking society, becomes counter-productive. At some point, you begin to make mistakes that wreck your work and you begin to stress yourself to the point of injury. You also begin to stress those around you. They worry about your well-being.

Fight your fight, but be a good custodian of yourself. Get some rest and regroup. An intelligent manic opponent will send most people back on their heels. No doubt those with whom you are doing battle may welcome a truce. You should too.

It may be better to burn out than to fade away, but is better still to live to fight another day.

I also need to check out Trac from edgewall.org, particularly about what MarkDoliner's wiki entry about OpenFire being the only open source XMPP server allowing client SSL authentication. Is that still true?

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